Odd Emotions
by AnonymousAvocado
Summary: Death is commonplace in Alex's world. The death of people barely involved which MI6 is not, though. (Bad summary, I know).


A/N- I don't own The Alex Rider series, nor do I intend to make profit out of Anthony Horowitz's characters. I don't know whether to continue with this, it has just been bothering me for a while, that's all.

Either way, could I get an review, please:)

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The gun was awfully cold against the mans skin, and the killer holding it against his neck even colder.

They were in a small room hidden from the outside world. You couldn't see in - in fact it was so concealed the door went unnoticed - and even if you could it would be pretty much useless due to the soundproof glass enclosing the room. It was a one way motion - when you're in you are hidden and trapped. The assassin was merciless and manipulative and he doubted he would get out alive - in fact his body would most definitely remain unfound for years to come.

Worst of all, to the victims horror, they felt tear droplets tumbling down their face. It wasn't the fear that lured this emotion out, it was who the man standing before him was. He had trusted him with his greatest fears and confided to him about various issues - rumours, conspiracies, his past, anything and everything and to have him standing behind him, one hand clutching what could be the item that kills him seemed preposterous and cruel. Preposterous due to the fact he managed to find the gun and calculate his movements, cruel because he didn't take being manipulated and shocked easily. When he believed to finally have found someone to rely and hope upon, they turned out to be a ruthless machine and the hope was torn out of his desperate fingers.

'Why are you doing this,' he whispered softly, eyes darting around the room in haste, 'I mean, what do you get out of my death - money, your debts paid or just a twisted kind of passion?' Behind him he sensed the atmosphere had changed - obviously the man hadn't expected a argument. The gun was thrust even further in his flesh and he bit his lip to stop the cry of pain from erupting from his mouth. He refused to show weakness in front of this monster, he refused to let him revel in his pain.

The solemn eyed killer cocked his head as if deep-in thought. 'You have been an interesting target,_ господине,'_ he spoke softly with calculated words and a perfected English accent - no trace of his homeland would be found within his voice, 'but my purpose here was merely educational on the contrary to your belief, and I must be grateful and thank you for this opportunity, my leaders were not willing to send me without detailed instructions, yet I think they will be happy with my work.' It was stunning how serious he sounded - like his target didn't mind being manipulated and abused beyond his control.

He felt him shudder underneath his delicate touch and smiled.

'You're sick,' his target spat out with boiling hot anger and sickening fear, 'crazy, sick, manipulative, insane,' he reeled the words out passionately, flames dancing in his eyes. With each word the killers eyes hardened with undistinguishable emotions and urgency. His throat heaved as he realized that maybe angering the man wasn't the most intelligent decision he'd ever made. He closed his mouth with a clunck.

Silence.

The air was thick and dangerous and suffocating and seconds later a voice could be heard.

'Insane,' the assassin growled wildly, trying out the word and finding it appealing, 'it works and makes sense. I prefer the word unique, however.' His finger slid over the trigger smoothly and his victim was overcome by fear - the evidence blatantly obvious in his eyes. 'лаку ноћ, Mr Harris.' Then a quick blink and he swiftly pulled the trigger with passion and efficiency in the movement.

The gun exploded in his hand, bullet fragments ricocheting off bone and cartilage as well as flying through pumping blood.

There was a muffled scream, a deep exhale of relief, then a heavy thump as the body fell to the floor. The assassin glanced towards the door and re-concealed his gun in a pouch tied around his slender torso.

Време је да идемо, he thought silently, his eyes drawn to the body in a daze. He quickly and efficiently withdrew a canister of repugnant, foul-smelling liquid from another pouch and tossed it over the pale body, regret slightly tinging his actions. He pocketed the empty bottle silently as if mourning the man before him.

With one more dragging glance towards his kill - the blood already staining the carpet and turning the room into a scene that should only be present in nightmares - he walked over to the door in a way that resembled more of a dance then walk and sighed.

It was a shame, he would've been a valuable asset to his company as well - if only they'd listened to his recommendations without raised eyebrows and more looks of equality. He had been a valuable member for two years already, but they still regarded him as almost inefficient and a child. He had once heard one of the newly recruited members make some snide comment about him behind his back. He had happily followed him to his apartment and strangled him until he dropped dead like a fly, eyes bulging and face red. The memory was reassuring and urged him to finish the job he'd been sent on.

He withdrew another item from his boots and tossed it around decisively in his cold hands, his fingers curling around the object. The matches felt like heavy weights and pure regret. But there was no time for regrets, he must finish the task. He completed the process of lighting it without a second thought, gritted his teeth and tossed the matched towards the clammy-skinned body. Seconds later a blaze of flames roared and burning heat scolded his back.

With one final, lingering look back towards the man - the contrasting emotions of proudness and faint guilt etched upon his features - he exited the room, leaving behind him a decomposing body, the thick smell of burning flesh and the strong, tainted scent of burning gasoline.

He slipped the matches into his breast-pocket as he slinked his way towards the staircase.

His last thought before leaving the building was one of pure passion. He was one step closer to completing his plan, and this was only the beginning.

Only the beginning of the deaths, torture and destruction yet to come.

Битка је тек почела.

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Rose x


End file.
